Brothers: Edward Elric
by Calenlass Greenleaf1
Summary: Fear, pain, self, and love—the things that shaped him, and the things that give him the determination to go on. Edward-centric. Character study.
1. Introduction

**Title:** Brothers: Edward Elric

**Author:** Calenlass Greenleaf

**Disclaimer:** FMA isn't mine.

**Spoilers:** For FMA in general. Mangaverse fic, meaning spoilers for _Brotherhood_, too. Quotes are from the manga, courtesy of OneManga.

**Rating:** PG-13

**Genre:** Angst/Family

**Warnings:** Angst. Violence. Some mild swearing…

**Pairings:** Implied EdWin. No yaoi/yuri, shounen-ai, shouta, or incest—I don't read or write that stuff.

**Summary:** Fear, pain, self, and love—the things that shaped him, and the things that give him the determination to go on. Edward-centric.

**A/N:** Recently, FF-Net is ruining my formatting, so I apologize in advance if you find any titles, line breaks, or closings to be un-centered. Originally my title was supposed to be underlined, too. *pokes FF-Net, hard*

**Story Notes:**

Bratja (Brothers) is composed by Michiru Oshima, sung in Russian, rendered into English by Tobu Ishi, and made famous by Vic Mignogna. However, Vic left out part of Al's verse. If you want the full lyrics written by Tobu Ishi, they're found at _www . fanfiction . net / s / 4042840 / 1 / Brothers_The_English_Bratja_ (copy, paste, and remove all spaces). I used the lyrics as chapter headers and enders—this not a songfic.

* * *

**Brothers: Edward Elric**

_**Introduction**_

Many people are familiar with the name Edward Elric, the youngest person to earn the privilege of State Alchemist. He's a hero for a lot of people, because of the part he played in saving the world. He knows important people, and some of them he even calls his friends.

The Fullmetal Alchemist…with an arm and leg of metal. Some people still hold automail in reverence, as it's still something not too common, and to have two limbs replaced with automail is something remarkable.

There's also the fact that he doesn't need transmutation circles to do alchemy. All he has to go his put his hands together; only four other people are capable transmuting without a circle.

So, yes, he's rather popular.

Yet he's also infamous.

For one, his height is a sore topic. Just one word can get him in tantrum.. He doesn't tolerate milk, and does all he can to avoid it. And he's been said to have a big ego; if people get him and his brother mixed up, they had better walk cautiously.

But that is all the surface. People know what he likes and dislikes, his personality, and his…quirks. But they don't understand his reasons for doing some things. They just think he's a loud-mouthed kid who grew up fast because he wanted to.

That's only the partial truth.

There's more to it.

Much more.

Fear, pain, self, and love—the things that shaped him, and the things that give him the determination to go on.

Those are the things that identify him as Edward Elric.


	2. Fear

_**Fear**_

_How can I repay you, brother mine?_

_How can I expect you to forgive?_

_Clinging to the past, I shed our blood_

_And shattered your chance to live._

-

He has tasted fear before. Who hasn't?

There were little fears, like being afraid of a storm or being afraid of Sensei's wrath. All children had fears, the kind you grew out of and scoffed at and you were an adult.

But there were also large fears, like being afraid of loneliness or being afraid of failing. Those fears, while sometimes common, may forever haunt you, even up to your death.

Really, it's not a new sensation to him at all. Like any other kid, he had his lists of fears—not that he would make them public. He preferred to brash, claiming that he wasn't "afraid of anything."

In truth, he really wasn't afraid of much. When his father left him, he was afraid—he had his mother and brother. He didn't need him. He could be their family protector _just_ fine.

When his mother died, he panicked some, but tried not to show it for the sake of his only family member left. Instead, he just held his chin up higher and walked with bigger strides. Childish fears disappeared the day he finished training on that island, and by the time he got home, he was sure there was nothing that was too big for him to conquer.

But all those fears in the past paled in comparison to the fear that gripped his heart and twisted it so violently that made him sick and wrenched the sobs from his throat. It was the fear he felt when he was left all alone, during those brief moments when his little brother was gone, he was bleeding profusely, and he thought his mother had died all over again.

'_NII-SAN!'_

'_AL!'_

Gut-wrenching screaming did him nothing.

_Think, you idiot, think. _

_Damn it—how could we…how could I have done this?_

_Al!_

And as he gasped, choking on his tears, it was fear forced him to move, pushing aside the wooziness in his head. He kicked out with his good foot, knocking the armor down with a loud clang and used his blood to draw the seal on the gorget.

'_This isn't what we wanted!_

_Al…_

_It's all my fault…'_

All else faded—only the fear was there, bitter in his mouth and tightly clutching his mind and heart. He couldn't imagine life alone—not like this. He _needed_ him.

'_Return him…he's my little brother! Whether it's my legs or both my arms—I can even give you my heart!'_

A pair of bloodstained hands stretched out, for he would gladly trade his life. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to stop the tears from dripping down his face.

'_So please return him to me!_

Hiccupping, he sucked in his breath and screamed.

_HE'S MY ONLY BROTHER!'_

Out of desperateness born from fear, he realized that he _knew_ what to do, and clapped his hands together to bind his brother's soul to the armor.

Just before he passed out, he managed gave his brother a weak sorrowful grin, even as he toppled over from blood loss.

_I swear…I'll get the rest of you back. I have to make things right._

_I'm…I'm too scared to think of life without you._

It was one of the few things he admitted to being afraid of something.

That fear never left him; time and time again, he thought that they would be goners. The first meeting with Scar. The incident with Greed. So many other happenings that made his heart beat faster and put him on edge. Living dangerously, he called it.

He knew that the fear would only be gone once they were whole and well.

-

_Though I knew the laws, I paid no heed._

_How can I return your wasted breath?_

_What I did not know has cost you dear_

_For there is no cure for death._

**TBC…

* * *

**

**A/N:** The gorget is the metal collar of the armor that protects the neck.


	3. Pain

**Warning:** As the title indicates, don't expect this to be a fluffy chapter.

* * *

_**Pain**_

_Beautiful mother, soft and sweet,_

_Once you were gone, we were not complete._

_Back through the years we reached for you_

_Alas! 'Twas not meant to be._

-

He has seen hell.

Is there any other pain worse than that?

He's had his share of kid-injures—knees scrapes, cuts, bruises, bug bites…what kid didn't get injured? He and his brother fought and inflicted wounds on each other. He endured even crazy training under an even crazier teacher who thought you learnt through pain. So he used to feeling pain.

But there was the other pain—the kind that was supposed to come when you were older. The pain that ripped open the heart and stamped on it until you wanted to die.

That pain happened to him while he was still young.

He has already seen his father leave, his mother die. In less than eleven years, he has already encountered the harsh reality of truth and life.

But none of that pain compares to the agony he felt when he lost his brother, for a few minutes.

All his knowledge, all his dreams—they were nothing, shattered by the feeling. His heart, his mind, his soul—they were crying out that it was his fault, and it _hurt_. It didn't matter that he was bleeding to death. He has lost his brother. And even though he managed to get him back, they weren't complete.

You ask, can it get any worse?

Of course it could.

After their failed human transmutation, he thought he could handle anything. Horrors were already imprinted on his mind, and he decided that he had to face up and do _something_.

_I don't care if I have to become a dog. I just want to…to set things straight for me and Al._

_Al's younger than me—he shouldn't have known pain. Not yet._

_I need to get stronger for him…_

So he chose automail over prosthetics.

'_It'll take you three years.'_

'_ONE year.'_

'_You'll be coughing up blood.'_

_I don't care. It's nothing compared to my brother's pain._

_He has to live with that body. He can't feel, eat, or sleep. What sort of a life is that? And if I die…he'll die, too._

_I can't let myself be a liability._

He didn't realize how much it would hurt though. Stabbing pain that shot through his chest and up his leg, blocking everything else from his mind. Nerve endings that tingled, went numbed, and tingled until his shoulders were tense from tightening his muscles against the horrible sensation. The torture of just breathing while hacking and coughing until he was sure he didn't have anything left in his lungs. Fevers that wracked his body, sensitizing his feelings to hot and cold and blurring all other feelings. Nausea that turned his stomach inside out until even the smell of something strong made him sick.

Only through willing himself did he stifle the urge to scream.

Then there were the nightmares that attacked him. The weaker he felt, the stronger they were. They threatened to take over his mind as they tore into his most inner thoughts, creating scenarios that seemed so real. He tried to put off sleeping, but he could never do it for long.

Worst were his thoughts. During long nights, they tormented and condemned him. They were loud and harsh, and he couldn't run away from them.

'_It's all my fault._

_Al has that body because of me._

_He can't eat, sleep, get hurt, or feel…_

_He blames me—he has to.'_

_Why…don't any of you just say outright that it's my fault? It IS and you know it!_

'_Al would never blame you.'_

'_Al isn't that sort of boy. You see; just ask him.'_

No.

If he asked, then the truth would be out. As much as he knew it was fault, he didn't want to feel that pain. He didn't want to see his little brother pointing a finger at him. It would hurt more, more than losing his mother. More than failing the human transmutation.

He knew he couldn't bear having Al turn his back on him.

'_I can't…'_

Tears forced their way out from his tightly-shut eyelids.

'_I'm afraid to…to scared to ask him.'_

His thoughts turned on him, and asked why he didn't just give up.

But somehow, he always dug himself out of the hole his thoughts created. His hand would tightly clench the bedsheets and he would grit his teeth and stop his tears.

'_That's why…I have to restore him as soon as possible.'_

_So the pain will go away._

_So that he won't blame me._

_I'm such a failure as a brother._

_So I can't fail now._

_Can't._

In one year, he managed to push through the pain, and he was able to walk and move again. The pain was always there, though, lingering in his eyes, like a reminder that of his failures. But it no longer pulled him down. He realized that no matter how much pain he would be in, for now or for the rest of his life, whether it be cuts, burns, or stabbing, he would always stand up and take it.

Because he had to.

-

_And how can I make amends_

_For all that I took from you?_

_I led you a hopeless dream._

_My brother, I was a fool._

**TBC…**


	4. Will

_**Will**_

_Don't cry for the past now, brother mine._

_Neither you nor I are free from blame._

_Nothing can erase the things we did_

_For the path we took was the same._

-

If anything, he had an attitude. An attitude that could inspire, but also an attitude that drove people crazy and made them insult him.

He had a strong will. A stubborn will that ruled everything he did.

As a kid, he thought he was better than everyone else because he knew alchemy. All he had to do was read books, practice, and he could do it. It didn't take him years and years. His sensei brought him down a few notches because she was able to transmute without circles, but once he was out of her care, he still walked with a swagger and a smirk. He still called people names, still fought other kids (and winning nearly every time, too), and still thought himself better.

That was why he was sure that he could bring his mother back. If people had failed, then that just meant he himself wouldn't. His theory was perfect.

It wounded him when he realized he was wrong.

_How could we have been wrong?_

For about a year, his will was in tatters. When that Colonel had walked up to him and grabbed him by front of his shirt, he didn't react, except look away in shame.

A year later, he regretted doing that. So when they met, he had a scowl on his face, and he made sure to act like a jerk.

He couldn't stand it if people thought him weak. It was bad enough that he was short for his age, and that he was only a teen. So he didn't bother treating his superiors with respect. He wore what he wanted, kept his hair long, refused to acknowledge the fact his rank was a Major, didn't follow all his orders promptly, and made sure people knew that _his_ opinions came first before theirs did.

'_He calls other bastards, but he himself is no better,'_ they said about him.

But that feeling of will was the thing that sometimes forced him to keep moving.

When the automail surgery was done, it was his will that made him walk in two weeks, and it was his will that taught him how to do things with his left hand nearly as well as his right hand used to carry out his actions.

He admits to being willful, at times. He's repeated the old myth of a man flying too close to the sun with wax-wings and fell to his death. It's just that he doesn't want to give it up.

How can he when it's one of the things that keep him grinning? He knows that sometimes he acts inane and immature. Sometimes he does it just to annoy others. Other times, he uses his attitude as a façade—to hide his emotions from the world.

_I've got to stay motivated._

_If that means needling other people to amuse myself, then I'll do it._

He doesn't pretend to exaggerate when it comes to his height and his title, though. It's bad enough the people think he's a little kid, but he's tired of seeing Al presumed to be him. To be looked down at—figuratively and literally—was the thing he hated most, next to the milk.

He also hates it when people see through him. Like his father. He blusters when he meets him in front of his mother's grave. It shocks him when his father knows his real reason for burning down the house, and he tries his best to change the subject (even though in the end, it's strengthened his will to move on).

_I don't need you looking down at me._

_I'm a better person than you are,_ he says in his mind.

But he knows it's not true.

_I know I've failed. I know it's all my fault. But I can't afford to mope and act all depressed because of that._

So he continues to get better, because he has to be the best. He needs the knowledge, the truth—he needs it to get back his brother and his bodies. That's why, he tells himself, he acts all high-and-mighty.

_So people won't see what's inside—they won't know how big of an idiot I can be sometimes._

Winry once said that he doesn't cry, even when he has a body he can cry with.

'_This dummy…is really just acting tough.' _She thought he had been asleep when she said that (he had woken up when Al and Winry started talking).

Only when he's around those he trusts does he let himself show through—

But just a little. He can't have people pitying him, after. Not even his family and friends. Why? Because he's the older brother, and he can't be seen as inferior to his little brother. His family is gone. Shattered. If that bastard left, then that just meant he had to take his place. That meant walking with bigger strides and talking big.

He realized that he's forgotten what is it like to be a kid. Ever since that day, he's never acted his age. Sometimes he's younger, sometimes he's older. But most of the time, he's older.

It's that will that makes him Edward Elric, youngest State Alchemist who's known for his skill and less known for his will not to kill.

Killing…

Can't the world live without it?

He's trying his best, but there are just times when he wonders if it wasn't better. Oh, he's held a gun, but he couldn't shoot it. Not even when he might have had a chance to save a friend.

But he made his decision, and he's not backing down on it. It's his will that keeps him from killing. He even told Kimbley, "It's the courage NOT to kill." And so far, there are no deaths accountable to his name.

_At least not visible ones._

He looks at his brother, and he glances down at his own hand and leg.

_I swear I'll get us back._

_Even if…I die, I'll do it so that you'll live…for both of us._

So he tips his head and shoulders up and sets a determined look on his face.

Truth would be going down, and he would win.

All because of his will.

-

_How could I expect to call you wrong?_

_How could you be blamed for what we've done?_

_Both of us were fools in our desires_

_For we flew too close to the sun._

**TBC…

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**

**A/N:** I didn't want to use "pride" because (1) it's one of the homunculi, and (2) It had five letters when I needed four-letter words. Will was the closest word I could find.

**Other:** "_Even if…I die, I'll do it so that you'll live…for both of us._" Crisis Core reference. It was a poignant line.


	5. Love

**A/N:** Let me reiterate here: _No incest_. Can't siblings love each other without stupid innuendos ruining it? The world's gone and abused the definition of real love, I tell you. *end rant*

* * *

_**Love**_

_Beautiful mother, soft and sweet,_

_Once you were gone, we were not complete._

_Back through the years we reached for you_

_Alas! 'Twas not meant to be._

-

He isn't one to express his feelings very well. Only sometimes does he actually do that, and usually it's reserved to Al, Winry, Granny, and maybe Sensei (though it's more often that she drags it out of him in a painful way). But he can't deny that he did a lot things out of love.

No, it's not the sappy sort of love that one finds in the films. He doesn't gush, "Alphonse, my dearest brother, I love you so much that I would die for you a thousand deaths." That's just stupid, empty words. In fact, he doesn't often consider their closeness. It's become so natural to him, watching out for Al, that he doesn't think twice about it.

After all, he did give up his arm for his little brother's soul. He even said that his heart could be taken.

If that's not love, then what is?

He chose automail for his brother's sake so that he could move freely and go out. He chose to become a dog of the military for his brother, even accepting the fate of using alchemy in war, because they would have access to funds and research.

It was always Al first, then himself.

He preferred actions to words, and by doing this, he's saying, "I love you, Al" in a way that counts more than words.

That love helped him through a year of surgery, pain, and frustration of rehabilitation and therapy. That love made him grit his teeth and go test for a State Alchemist Position. That love continues to help him drudge through the disappointments of their long search.

But while love was the thing that kept them together, it was also the thing that brought them both to their downfall.

When they were young, Al trusted him whole-heartedly. When their mother died, he did so even more. Boys that were Ed's age usually despised their younger siblings, but not he. They may have fought as kids, but once they were left alone, he realized how important family was, and he was determined to keep Al from harm.

Their love was born out of loss, and it was strong one at that.

Yet…it was that love that made his little brother agree to human transmutation. Because he agreed, Al lost even more than he did.

_How can you love me_, he sometimes wonders, _when I was the one who hurt you so much? If you hadn't listened to me, I would have been the only to pay. But you followed me._

Yet he always remembers had their places been switched, he would have done the same—go on loving his brother, regardless of his sins. He would insist it wasn't one person's fault, but both of their fault.

Their bond was tested, painfully when Al asked him if his memories were fake. It had already been a hell of a week for him, and all he wanted to do was get out the stupid hospital as quickly as possible. He knew Al was avoiding him, though. He tried to keep their conversation light, but something as harmless as a discussion on milk quickly turned to harsher things.

_After all we've been through, you ask me that?_

_Why?_

_I though you trusted me._

_I trusted you._

_Since when is my word no longer enough?_

That wasn't the only time they argued. When they couldn't save Nina, and when he thought he couldn't save himself and tried to sacrifice his life so that Al would live, his brother had showed a fist in his face and told him in no uncertain terms that if they got into this mess together, they would get out of it together.

He realizes then that love was a wasn't an easy road. It was a hard one, as hard as the life they've chosen. He needs to work more at it if they're going to get their bodies back.

Together, of course. If he dies and Al lives, or vice versa, life wouldn't be the same.

_I said I would get them back, and I don't break my promises._

So he pushes himself harder, better, and faster. Even when he reaches a breaking point, he still force himself goes on.

Because it's love.

If he fails, he not only fails himself, but he fails his brother.

He deals with losses and disappointments by gritting his teeth and grinning—because he wants to cheer Al up whenever he can. The fact that Al could disappear any moment, whether it be in seconds, minutes, days, or years, was terrifying, but he didn't let it show. All he does is know that what he says doesn't make a difference. It's what he _does_.

Love…it didn't only apply to his brother. As much as he denies it, he does a lot of things for Winry, too. She was his and Al's support, both physically and emotionally; when he got too cocky she was there to conk him over the head with her wrench. As much as he complains about her, he knows he can't live without her

He won't admit that he loves her as an individual (Did Riza _have_ to ask that?), but he does admit (only to Al) that he loves her as his family, and can't see her cry. Seeing her cry is always awkward, and the day she encounters her parent's killers, it's all he can do when he takes the gun from her hands, tells her that her hands weren't made for killing, and lets her cry into his shirt.

It was at the moment that he realizes how much Winry meant to him, and how much...he wants her to be happy.

_I hate disappointing you…_

_Yeah, I know I don't show it._

When people try to pass her off as a weakness or hostage, it makes his blood boil. She's not a vulnerability.

She's one of the reasons that he can stand on two legs and transmute with his hands.

Love isn't a weakness.

But it was sometimes misunderstood. When he tried to bring his mother back, he thought he was doing it out of love. But he learned it was just selfishness—he wanted his mother back, even though they knew it was forbidden.

Love meant forgetting about yourself and thinking about others, not making everything center around you.

Maybe he's considered a arrogant brat to some people, but not a moment goes by when he does think of the people he calls family.

Out of the things that he has put his trust in, there's only one thing that he knows won't change, and that was love for those he cares about.

-

_My dreams may be blind and mute._

_I longed to return to that time._

_I followed without a word._

_My brother, the fault is mine.

* * *

_

**A/N:** There is a conclusion left.


	6. Conclusion

_**Conclusion**_

Are you confused yet? Do you think that I paint an inaccurate picture of the famous alchemist?

_So, you're saying that he's a fearful, pained, strong-willed, and loving person obsessed with getting his and his brother's bodies back, right?_

No quite. You're glancing over everything again.

In all honesty, Edward Elric cannot be summarized in such a small amount of words. In fact, no person can be summarized in just a book. Not even biographies can do that. It's because words can only describe so much what the eyes perceive. Words have a limit.

This account is what I saw and attempted to put into words, and what I believe Edward Elric to be.

You may say it is not complex enough, that the words are too simplistic.

He doesn't need big words to explain him. It would be superfluous and empty.

Perhaps had the events been different, and had nothing great happened to him, he would been just an ordinary, talented kid who watched out for his brother.

It's not about glory. It's not about titles. It's not about wealth.

How many people can say they still keep in touch with their family members after years? Do they even consider things such as sacrifice?

Edward Elric did. Should alchemy disappear, and should every material thing disappear, he'll still have his brother with him.

That's what really matters.

_- Written by Alphonse Elric, with help from Edward Elric_

-

_So where do we go from here?_

_And how to forget and forgive?_

_What's gone is forever lost._

_Now all we can do is live…_

**Owari.

* * *

**

**Story Notes:**

When I first started this, it wasn't in Al's POV. It only became his POV while I was writing "Love."

I wish my own brother could write on me, even if it is sometimes awkward to read about yourself…I, however did write a character sketch on my brother for the fun of it. I accidentally left it on my desk. Yeah, he saw it (And I hit myself over the head for leaving it out). But "I guess it's accurate enough," was all he said, and I was relieved. I guess…there was a time when I no longer saw him a whiny little kid who annoyed the life out of me, but as a friend and someone I could trust. That was before discovering FMA. After FMA, it made me appreciate him more. No, it's not become my guidebook, but it's a reminder of how important family should be.

I'll end the speech here; I tend to ramble in these notes, sorry.

Hope all of you have enjoyed reading. :) Thanks goes to everyone who've added this story to their alerts and favorites.

Next FMA fic: A joint fic related to this one. On Al, with observations from Ed. It's a little harder; I haven't really written much on Al, but at least he's not as stubborn as his brother. *grin*

Ja ne!

~Cal


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